


Come With Me

by quartetship



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A phrase repeated in every phase of life may have a different meaning every time...</p>
<p>"Come with me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theicarustheory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theicarustheory/gifts).



> Originally a birthday gift for the wonderful Gia (theicarustheory), who gave me a lot of the ideas for it!
> 
> Set in canon, but obviously NOT canon compliant. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> \--

They're thirteen and fourteen, barely finished being children and still miles from manhood. They're sitting together at breakfast, like they usually do, mostly because Jean doesn't talk to many of the other recruits. Marco goes starry eyed, talking about his dream of serving the king and his hopes of making the top ten. Jean nods along, mentioning with a self assured smirk that the living conditions are a world apart in the interior.

"Two to a room, instead of two to a bed," he laughs. "You've got your head on straight, wanting to end up there."

Marco nods, still staring at something unseen. After a moment he turns to face Jean, and his expression is still hopeful, but more serious now.

"Come with me" he says, quick and quiet, like it's part of some grand plan. Jean just shrugs, because of course he wants to end up in the interior, Marco or no.

They finish eating and their day - life itself - goes on. They'll talk about it again, about a decision they made as overgrown children, over breakfast, and Jean will tell himself it was his idea all along.

\--

It's the night before graduation, and they both know where they're headed. The commotion of people murmuring about the top ten should be exciting, but it feels like a heavy coat in the summer heat, and they slip away from the dull roar of the common areas to talk. As soon as the cool night air hits their skin, they're tugging at straps and fumbling with buttons, voices stolen by anxious, trembling kisses.

"One more day," Jean whispers, his hand slipping past the waistband of Marco's pants as they settle against a supply shed wall. Marco rakes a hand through his hair and hisses, almost too worked up to speak.

"And you're coming with me" he says, and it sounds more like a boast than anything Jean's heard from him before. Neither of them speak about it, even with each other, but they both know Jean's motivations have changed. He's following his heart as much as his head, maybe more of the former than he's even aware of.

When they rejoin the others that night, Marco can't stop smiling. Jean spares a few smiles himself, and sleeps like an untroubled child that night.

\--

They're fifteen and sixteen when the world falls apart, the day after it had seemed unbreakable. Jean curses and shouts and fights with everyone, and with no one in particular. _Just one more day,_ he says darkly to himself. _Survive one more day, and get what you've worked for._ Nothing about that is different, but he can see a change written across Marco's features.

There's no time to think about it.

He watches comrades die, see lives end right in front of him. He nearly loses his own life, but for the help of his friends and the virtue of his skill. When they stand on a rooftop, carnage all around them and screams echoing off the buildings on either side, Jean feels his handle on the world begin to crack, and he wonders how long he has left. When a hand tugs at his, he almost pulls away, but a timid voice stops him where he stands.

"Come with me."

Marco doesn't ask, but rather quietly commands it. Jean knows he shouldn't - they're assigned to different squads - but the worried look in Marco's eyes won't let him leave, and he nods wordlessly, following him into the fray. They survive the day, and Jean can't bring himself to regret his choice.

A few days later, they walk the streets searching for the nameless dead, and mourn more than a few dear friends as fire consumes their remains. But thanks to each other's vigilance, they are _alive_ , and in a few days they will finally be heading to the interior. Jean hopes that dreams of what they'll find there will quiet the nightmares of what they've seen, but when he thinks about the way the war seems to be changing Marco, he can't sleep at all.

\--

They're still in the barracks, awake before dawn and waiting to be moved to their new post inside Wall Sina, when Marco pulls Jean aside. His voice is thick with fear and desperation, but also the assurance of a thought he's turned over and over.

"I'm leaving" he says flatly. "I can't be a part of this anymore. Not after all that we've seen. Not when I know what the military police are capable of. I can't go to the interior. I'm going back to civilian life, to wherever will have me. Work fields, build houses - anything but fight in this war."

Jean can't believe what he's hearing, but it hits him even harder when Marco gives him a hesitant, hopeful smile and whispers, "come with me".

He's worked for years to get where he's finally about to be, and sacrificed more than he was ever willing to. What could equal that reward that he could reconcile giving it up, especially to live as a deserter? Marco's hand is warm in his, and it gives him just a moment's pause before he answers firmly.

"I can't. I'm sorry, Marco."

Marco's smile falls, but he nods like he knew Jean's reply before he gave it. He squeezes Jean's hand and kisses him, a fleeting brush of lips before he leaves without another word.

Jean leaves that evening, and despite their conversation, he waits up until almost sunrise for Marco to join him in the room he'd always thought they'd share. But the day comes - and goes - without sight of Marco.

It's the first of many inside the hollow beauty of the interior.

\--

He's a few years older, on a trip to visit family outside the inner wall. His mother always looks forward to seeing him, though it's never in the same place twice with all the moving around the people outside Wall Sina have to do. With every titan attack, every incident that sends shock waves even into his cozy corner of the kingdom, Jean struggles not to acknowledge the guilt that lays heavy on his chest at his decision to go on to interior. It's not any easier when he notices a group of laborers working while he enjoys his paid leave, sweating in the sun to finish repairing a home that was likely destroyed during the most recent attack.

One of the workers has a familiar build - a way of moving and carrying himself that Jean recognizes - and his dark hair snags something painful in Jean's chest. When he walks by, their eyes meet, and Jean can't move for a moment.

_Marco_.

They look at each other, and Jean is suddenly acutely aware of how heavy his police jacket is in the warm summer air. Marco eyes it for a few minutes, looking at the patches and badges that display Jean's authority, and then looks back at Jean's face, studying it just as carefully. Then he smiles - genuine and without a trace of bitterness - and Jean wants to close the distance between them and hug him, hold him like he used to when they were still naive teenagers. Instead, he smiles in return and they exchange a nod, before he continues on his way to visit his family.

On his way back, Marco and the others are gone, finished with their work. _It's just as well,_ he thinks. _It's not like he could come with me._

\--

Jean is approaching thirty when it finally happens. A breakthrough, a victory - the end of titans as the enemy of man. With the danger that has loomed as a constant throughout the lives of the people of the walls gone, the military funds are cut to make way for the effort to move people, crops and livestock outside the stone barriers. When the order is handed down to relieve nearly half of the military police of their duties, Jean takes it in stride. He accepts his severance pay and goes back to stay with his parents, waiting for the movement of the people of the kingdom to slow down before looking for a place of his own.

He's walking the streets of his parents' newest home town, half focused on errands and half daydreaming about starting his life over when he hears a familiar voice. When he looks up and sees brown eyes and the sun-darkened freckles, he smiles on reflex, and stops where he stands out of habit.

They talk for a while, and it's not until he feels the ache in his cheeks that he realizes that he's been grinning like an idiot the entire time. Marco tells him of a settlement just outside the walls, where he's been stationed to work building homes, and where he'll be living himself, soon enough. When the sun begins to set behind them and the conversation begins to taper off with the fading light, Marco grabs his hand, and Jean can feel his heart leap in his chest when Marco smiles a hopeful smile he thought he'd never see again and whispers.

"Come with me."

They begin again the way they ended, a soft kiss that's more of a whisper against lips, and then they're smiling through tears, words useless between them.

This time, Jean doesn't refuse. 

\--

They wake up in a tiny, three room house, a home built by Marco's hands and years of his patience, tangled up in each other every time the sun rises. They don't speak of the years that have passed since they last held each other this way, or of the hands life has dealt them since they've been apart. Only of here, only of now, every day.

It is easy to forget how old they are now, sharing smiles and laughter that have existed for decades in a world that never fell away, was never really gone. Like everything else with them, they find it again and make up for time lost, loving like yesterday never was, like tomorrow will never be.

Between them, there is nothing to regret.


End file.
